The little Buddha

Said he - I am hungry … Can you hear the elephants rumbling in my stomach?
And then he laughed… his eyes in a hurry to gather all the evidence of it at the creases.
And then he streamed away.
Flowed away.
Rivered away?
With some people, words don’t follow vocabularies. They follow rivers and clouds and wafts and butterflies and bees and wispy white buds that flew between mountains following the breeze.
That is how he would come and go. Just a little before he would come wafting in from nowhere, you could smell of things to come. Like dreams. Like lulls. Like pauses stolen out of meditating yogis. Then, just when the fragrance would get dribbling on your limbs, you would suddenly turn your head, knowing the exact direction to navigate and find him. The tiny little man who rode the highest waves. He walked like he only walked from his spine. He walked like he were walking with his eyes. He walked like his smile was rolling out the road in front of him. So he kept walking and he kept smiling and the road and the smile kept feeding each other.
He walked like that.
And he walked also like his limbs knew no bones. And also like his mind knew no stones. He walked like the world was at his feet. And he walked like he ruled no one. And no one ruled him. He walked like that. In the absence of himself. And in the company of Someone Else.
And when he reached you, somewhere about your fringes, you always saw a little more of the September sun. A little more of the butterflies. A little more of the sweets peas. And a little more of Everything.
And if while walking, he suddenly changed his direction and you lost him to some other set of faces out there, far away, there always rose this little rainbow from him and it would climb the skies and come bending down to you and tumble in your palms. On happier days, such rainbows also carried his laughter. Peals and peals. So, here you would be, and out there, far, far, far away he would be and you still knew he had walked in, somewhere, and just from the raindrops tapping at your insides, you would map out his location. And find him, mysteriously facing you and smiling. From that far a distance. You always had this eerie sense --- could he smell your seeking?
He could.
And like this he streamed, flowed and rivered around. And like this, he would always laugh about the rumbling elephants and hunger pangs.
And then, one day, he fed his elephants and satiated himself. Forever.
Today, he heals others of such rumblings. Elephants and more.